It seems logical to have a plan for what happens after we die, yet a surprising number of people leave no instructions, placing a heavy burden on those left behind. Award-winning author Nova Weetman explores this poignant reality through her own deeply personal experience of loss.
The Uncollected Ashes: A Story of Pandemic Grief
Nova Weetman's partner died in 2020, during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic lockdowns. Three years later, she has still not collected his ashes from the funeral home. In a raw account, she attributes this to a combination of factors: the administrative chaos exacerbated by the pandemic, the absence of any instructions from her partner about his final wishes, and the sheer, debilitating weight of grief that made this final step feel impossible.
The aftermath of a death involves a relentless stream of paperwork. Just when you believe it's finished, letters addressed to the deceased arrive, forcing another painful phone call to explain their passing. "It is utterly exhausting," Weetman writes, "to be undertaking all of this when you are chafed with grief." This administrative purgatory occurs while also planning a funeral, memorial, or cremation.
The Burden of Decision for the Bereaved
With nearly two-thirds of Australians opting for cremation, one might expect more people to have clear plans. While some do, many do not, leaving the critical decision of where to scatter ashes to their grieving loved ones. The surviving family and friends, desperate to honour the person they've lost, are then tasked with choosing a place that feels important, relevant, and approved. This responsibility can feel overwhelming at a time when the simple act of getting out of bed requires monumental effort.
Weetman reflects on her own mother's ashes, which were scattered at a bend on Williamstown beach in Melbourne, a place central to her childhood. Later, her father admitted to scattering some in his front garden. At the time, Weetman disliked the idea of her mother being in separate places and vowed to leave strict instructions for herself. Ironically, now she is older, she feels less certain about what those final steps should be.
Opening the Conversation About Death
A shift in perspective has come through her daughter, who is studying a university arts subject called Death. Part of the course involves planning her own funeral service and one for a loved one. Rather than finding it morbid, she has embraced the candid discussions about environmental costs of burials and cremations, body washing rituals, and alternatives like shrouds. Weetman argues that talking openly about death from a younger age demystifies it, instead of treating it as a secretive subject.
Prompted by a friend's reaction, Weetman finally contacted the funeral home about her partner's ashes. The director was reassuring, noting that storing uncollected ashes is not uncommon, though not indefinite. An appointment was made, but at the last minute, Weetman cancelled. "It still felt too early," she confesses.
The catalyst for action came when her father's ashes, who died in January last year, arrived at her home in a box of family photographs. Having him in her office, where she sometimes chats to him or reads aloud difficult sentences, brought a sense of comfort. She liked the idea of the two men she loved being in close proximity, as if keeping each other company. This finally gave her the strength to rebook the appointment to collect her partner's ashes – a commitment she intends to keep this time.
